


it's a verb

by wastedonyoursmile



Series: A series of unfortunate events (or thank god that happened) [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Derek Gets Hurt, M/M, Meet-Cute, Prompt Fic, derek and stiles bond over being better looking than jackson, of course, there is mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastedonyoursmile/pseuds/wastedonyoursmile
Summary: I just injured this guy by gesticulating! It's not funny!





	it's a verb

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't dislike Jackson as much as it may seem. He's just what has come to mind. :(
> 
> I'm very tired, so sorry for any glaring mistakes. It's time to leave the internet and go the fuck to sleep. Also, I'm not very good at titles or tags. Tag suggestions are welcome!

Derek's listening to Jackson tells some dickhead joke about one of his clumsy co-workers, but he's pretty much tuning him out and trying not to smile as the guy sitting next to him yells about condoms flying all over the room when something hits him in the face. Hard. His head reels a little bit, static filling his brain and pain exploding across his face.

He realizes a few things at once. His nose is pouring a little river of blood down his chin, but it's not broken. There's a stranger standing in front of him with a bloody hand. Jackson looks like it's fucking Christmas in July. And someone is laughing. But it's all a little muffled.

He's been hit before so it shouldn't be such a shock and it sure as shit shouldn't hurt this much. But he's on his fourth mixed drink and he hasn't slept well for the last week, everything was a bit hazy to begin with. When his vision clears the first thing he takes in is worried brown eyes, beautiful brown eyes; but extremely worried. Apparently they belong to the stranger with the bloody hand, because said hand is nervously wiping over those beautiful brown eyes.

"Dude," the eyes are saying. "Dude, are you okay? Oh god, I'm so sorry. Shit, you are seriously bleeding. Fuck."

"You hit me," is the only thing he can come up with. "Ow."

"I'm so, so, sorry. Oh my god," and then the guy is stripping out of his overshirt and pressing it gently under Derek's nose.

"There's napkins on the table," he mumbles. His eyes focus a bit better and even in the haze of 'ow' Derk manages to think 'wow', cause the guy has strong shoulders and long arms and a trim waist.

"Erica! Shut the fuck up! Stop laughing! I just injured this guy by gesticulating! It's not funny! I don't give a fuck how much you've had to drink! Have some common decency!" He's still looking at Derek, crouched down in front of him with concern written all over his face.

"I didn't drink enough for this," Derek grumbles, but tries to smile nonetheless. He wants to reassure the guy that there's no harm, no foul, or whatthefuckever. "I think it's stopped bleeding, can't be that bad."

The guy makes a small worried noise and pulls his shirt back from Derek's nose. "It's not broken is it? I don't think it's bleeding enough to be broken. And I'm pretty sure there's not enough strength to my flail to break something."

Derek wiggles his nose and sighs. "S'not broken, just sore."

"I'm so sorry, man, really and truly sorry," he's staring at Derek's blood on his shirt, frowning.

"Derek," Derek says without any provocation and then promptly winces. He's on his game tonight. Fuck.

"Huh?"

"My name, it's Derek," he hears someone to his left screech something that sounds like 'seriously?'. Yup. Totally on his game.

"Shut up, Isaac!" the guy yells and turns to smile at Derek. "I'm Stiles. And before you ask it's a nickname," and all Derek can think of is 'I'm so fucked' cause when the guy smiles Derek honestly thinks he might faint. What the fuck. He's lost blood tonight, that is... it's a reason.

"Do you always hit on strangers in bars or am I just special?" Yes. Smooth. Damn look at his fingers, his fingers are even beautiful.

"Are you drunk?" Stiles says instead with a chuckle.

"Not enough to be bleeding in a bar surrounded by my-- Oh, I guess my co-workers have decided I'm too much of an embarrassment to be seen with anymore. I need sleep." His yawn makes his nose scrunch up unpleasantly, but the way Stiles laughs makes his whole face light up and Derek doesn't feel a drop of pain.

"Yeah, you look like you could use a good nights rest."

"Are you saying I look like shit?" Derek asks, and then points over Stiles' shoulder. "Do I still look better than Jackson?"

Stiles turns his head and looks where Derek is pointing. "Is that what's important here?"

"You don't know Jackson. It's always important to look better than Jackson."

"I do actually know Jackson and I completely agree with that statement, with which I will counter with my own question: Do I look better that Jackson?"

"Me first," Derek can't help but smirk or he tries to smirk but he thinks it comes out kind of weak. When did he get so damn tired?

"I can say with one hundred percent certainty that you look better than Jackson. Even with dried blood on your face." Derek absentmindedly goes to wipe said blood off but Stiles grabs his wrist before he can. "Hey, no. No need to agitate it. Maybe it's just waiting for you to touch it to start leaking again."

They both seem to realize at the same time that Stiles is still holding onto his wrist, palm warm against his pulse. Stiles mumbles an 'um' and gently lets go of Derek's hand. "You definitely look better than Jackson, he’s not even in your league." Derek hopes that came out the way he intended it to. 

Stiles looks at him with wide eyes and rubs the hand that was just touching Derek against the back of his neck. The smile that slowly blooms across his face makes Derek flush. He hasn’t blushed like that since he was sixteen. Stiles beams even brighter.

"So this might be kind of creepy, but I'm kinda hungry, want to go grab something from the diner across the street? Or I could flag a cab for you if you want?"

Derek can't help the groan that falls from his lips. "Food. Yes. Good. Right now?" He hasn’t eaten since before sun rise.

"Yeah, definitely right now." Stiles stands up and holds out a hand that Derek only hesitates for a second before taking.

"You're paying, though. And I get a kiss goodnight. You made me bleed."

Stiles laughs and maybe Jackson is right: it is Christmas.

Game. He's got it.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: You just punched me in the face while gesturing wildly to a friend, your friend can't stop laughing and I'm too shocked to respond to your apologies


End file.
